


You Wanna Destroy a Man, You Don't Need to Kill Him

by zad3



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Amputation Kink, Bladder Control, Breathplay, Catheters, Intubation, Kinktober, M/M, Medical Kink, Medical Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sort Of, Threats, Watersports, fuckpotato, oh this is really bad, post-borderlands the pre-sequel, you know that one hydra trash party fic tagged fuckpotato
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 21:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16167008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zad3/pseuds/zad3
Summary: exactly what is says on the tin, gross kinktober porn featuring Jack doing horrible things to Timmy





	You Wanna Destroy a Man, You Don't Need to Kill Him

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh this for kinktober day 2 please read the tags it's exactly what it sounds like and it's fucking terrible
> 
> day 2 is: medical play and watersports
> 
> title is a handsome jack quote, now isn't it
> 
> also fic is close on jack being a fucking disgusting mess so if that sounds like something you want to avoid forever please do

Timothy wakes up slowly. Handsome Jack's got his hand on the dial, slowly turning down the stuff that's keeping him asleep, but not touching the nerve blockers. Not yet, that's for later. Right now he wants the only pain that Tim feels to be the pain that’s he’s inflicting, and oh boy, does he want to inflict. 

He can tell when Timothy wakes up, because his eyes start moving rapidly under the tape keeping them closed, and he tries to scream, gagging, instead around the tube in his mouth. Jack can practically taste the fear, and it’s really frickin' good.

“Hey there, kiddo, welcome back to the land of the living. Made a few adjustments to you while you were asleep, hope you don't mind.” Jack waits for a reaction, but Timothy is busy choking and trying to struggle off the table. He can't, but he doesn't know that yet. “Ah-ta-ta, none of that. Here I'll throw you a bone, Jackothy.”

He reaches over and pulls the tape off Tim's eyes, savors the panic he sees there. Tim blinks rapidly, presumably trying to get the tape residue off his eyes, but Jack isn't bothered, and is certainly not about to help. Timothy tries to speak again, tears falling as he fails, choking, and Jack grins.

“Nah, Jackothy's bad. Tack? No frickin' sucks, too.” Tim manages a panicked, guttural noise and Jack schools his face into something that almost looks concerned. “Hey dummy, stop trying to talk. You've got a ventilator in still, which is why you can't take a breath on your own. Calm down and you'll see you're breathing fine,” he says, as conciliatory as Handsome Jack gets.

Timothy pauses, watching in rapt horror as his chest inflates and deflates with a noticeable click and whoosh as the machine pushes air into his lungs. The horror increases as he turns his head as far as he is able with the tube running rigid down his throat and sees the empty space where his arm should be, then tilts to the other side only to the same. His eyes widen and his whole body begins to shake as he turns back to Jack, and Jack chuckles.

If he could bottle a look, it would be that horrified betrayal he only ever sees from people who ought to know better. “See, Timtam, got rid of some useless parts. What's a couple arms and legs between friends?”

Tim tries to see over his chest to see if his legs are really gone, but he should know better than to doubt Jack. His arms are gone at the shoulder, legs at the hip, joints covered smooth with a metal plate on each. 

“Don't look so distressed,” Handsome Jack says in his best salesman voice. “I made sure you have really bitchin' mechanical limbs for when you need them. Real expensive pieces of equipment, kiddo, made for you at no cost, that you are free to use-” he bends over the table so Timothy can see his smile, and adds, “-whenever I let you.”

Timothy panics again, shaking and writhing, and not getting anywhere at all without his limbs, not coordinated enough to move. Jack is standing close enough he can watch as Tim's he breaks out in sweat struggling like he thinks he can escape. It's almost as funny as the spoon guy, and that's saying something.

Jack molds his face into patronizing concern, which if anything ups Timothy's panic. “Hey there, pumpkin, calm down. No need to panic, slow down your breathing.” The smirk climbs up his face slowly. “Oh, wait, that's on me. Here, I'll slow it down for you.”

Handsome Jack reaches for the dial and turns it way down. Tim's breathing slows down to a crawl, and he tries desperately to suck in a gasp but it's exercise in futility; he can't get anymore air than Jack let's him, and it's not much. It's not quite as good as strangling someone with his own hands, but there's something about the machine aspect, that the ventilator can't be reasoned with or overpowered.

Tim's shoulders are quaking and he's choking frantically on the ventilator between tiny gaps of air. Jack runs a finger along the seam of his shoulder and Tim shudders, gagging with the motion. His face is a little sweaty, probably from oxygen deprivation, but it's not concerning yet. 

Jack knows all the signs.

“You must be pretty upset, Timbo, if you haven't noticed this yet,” Jack says, lifting Tim's dick with a single finger, until it's standing straight up from his pelvis, so that Tim can see the thick tube trailing out of the tip. “They put that in there while you were out, so you wouldn't piss all over our expensive machinery. But I asked them to leave it in. See, I'm worried my message didn't take, and you don’t understand that your body is mine to play with like I want, Timmy.”

The catheter tube splits into three smaller lines, one in, one out, and one that leads to the little balloon keeping the thing in place. Handsome Jack pulls a clip off the surgical table and secures it to the line out, before lifting up a rather large syringe of water so Timothy can track it with his wide eyes. 

Jack grins, twirls the syringe, then plugs it into the in valve. “See, I'm pretty sure you weren't working with Lilith and her stupid boyfriend, but I heard more than a little unflattering commentary from your ECHO device, Timmy. So let this serve as a reminder, things will only get worse if you betray me. And also that you're my bitch.” He pushes down on the plunger slowly, watches confusion on Timothy’s face fade into discomfort and pain as realizes the water is filling his bladder in a completely unnatural way, and, if Jack had measured right, has got to be overwhelmingly overfull.

Tim tries to suck in a breath, but he can’t, and how awesome is that?

He unclicks the syringe, watches as Timothy’s abs clench as he tries to piss, and watches as Tim starts really crying as he realizes he can’t. His face is paler than before. Jack's going to have to turn his oxygen up soon, but not yet. “How’s that for some nice discomfort, pumpkin?” Jack presses a button that lowers the hospital bed until it’s at crotch level, and pulls his dick from his pants. “Okay kitten, here’s the order of events: I’m gonna cum in your ass, then we’re gonna see if you can cum around that thick-ass tube down your dick, then, if you manage to look pathetic enough, I might even take that tube outta your throat.”

Tim manages a soft wail before it’s cut off by choking, but that’s okay. Jack likes both of those sounds, equally.

**Author's Note:**

> if u think u know who i am from the user name and similar kinktober content from last year, u'd be right lmao


End file.
